Dreams of Sara
by Tres Mechante
Summary: Observations about Sara by a mysterious watcher. Response to Unbound improv challenge. [GSR]


**Dreams of Sara**  
By Tres Mechante  
  
**Summary:** Observations about Sara by a mysterious watcher. GSR**_   
_**  
**Disclaimer:** _CSI_, their characters and universe do not belong to me in any way, shape or form. I would not mistreat them. I am not stealing the characters, merely giving Sara a break from the mayhem that is currently CBS. That is reward enough.  
  
**A/N:** This is a response to the present chaos at CBS in the form of a response to the Unbound improv challenge. The first and last lines were provided. All I had to do was fill in the space between those lines. _**Identity of the mysterious watcher in A/N at end of story.**_  
  
If you haven't already contacted CBS, please do so. I refuse to believe it's over until there is a statement from Jorja Fox and George Eads.  
  
=== === === ===  
  
"Kiss me..."  
  
A shiver ran down my spine at those words. I sometimes wake from dreams where she leans close to me and whispers...  
  
"C'mon Greg. Kiss me."  
  
No those are definitely _not_ the words from my dream. I peek into the break room to see Sara and Greg having coffee. Hmmm...nothing improper seems to be going on there. Maybe I misheard? As casually as possible I enter the room, hoping to find out what is going on.  
  
"Just give me a minute. I'm thinking," whined Greg. Okay, maybe not whined, but close enough. Kids, I huff under my breath.  
  
"You've already had a minute and you're about to lose your chance," she warned. "Five seconds. Kiss me. Three...two..."  
  
Greg jumped up. "Sixpence None the Richer!"  
  
I pause, coffeepot in hand and look over at the excited CSI wannabe and almost miss the surprise on Sara's face. "I was so sure you wouldn't get it," she said.  
  
"I admit it's not my usual type of music, but I don't live only on the musical edge, you know," laughed Greg. "Pay up please."  
  
Sara laughed and handed him a nickel.  
  
"Dare I ask what is going on?" I inquire. "Since when is gambling on the job permitted?"  
  
I receive twin glares, but Sara is the one who answers. "Greg thinks he knows all there is to know about music, so we've been playing music trivia. The nickel is a small bet, hardly worthy of being called a bet."  
  
"Yeah," chimes in Greg. "Besides, only about three or four nickels have actually entered the game. For two days the same nickel kept going back and forth." He probably would have said something else – he's been a little more inclined to speak his mind since getting out into the field – but his pager goes off and he leaves the room.  
  
Sara rinses out their cups, gives me a tentative smile and leaves.  
  
The rest of the shift passes quietly. Not so quiet that I'm bored, but quiet enough that I don't feel guilty when my eyes search for Sara while I'm walking the corridors. I can't help myself. Her spirit, her strength, her intellect, her smile...she is a beacon, drawing me to her.  
  
I find myself near the break room again towards the end of shift. She is laughing at something with Warrick and Nick. I love her laugh, but heard it too little over the last while. For awhile I thought for sure she'd leave. My heart kept shattering over every rumor and indication of problems or unhappiness. But I'm glad she's happy again. I just wish I were the one who'd brought joy back into her world.  
  
I stand for a moment and watch them, listening to the easy banter drifting through the door, but don't go in. There is no place for me there, in that group. Not right now. Maybe someday. Maybe.  
  
--- --- ---  
  
It's good to be home. I'm tired, but still need to unwind. I grab my journal and settled down on the loveseat, thinking. Nobody knows I've been seeing a therapist. At first I really scoffed at the idea of keeping a journal, but it helps. And I've taken up sketching again. I have to admit the two activities have gone a long way toward helping me regain my balance – and my attitude.  
  
What to write...? It hadn't really been too bad a night so I don't have anything to add. Except...  
  
_**Another night with her, but still apart from her. I think I'm getting a handle on my feelings for Sara. Her joyful attitude is a balm to my heart. For too long she was a dark presence in the lab. No joy. No spirit. No hope. And beneath my own 'attitude' I ached for her, but there was nothing I could do. It just wasn't my place. Still isn't, really. But I rejoice over the change in her all the same. What a difference. And I know most of it has to do with Him.  
  
They didn't know I was there, but I saw them. Waiting to pull out of the parking lot, I caught sight of Sara, so I turned my head, a last look at her to take home to my dreams. She wasn't alone. He was with her. They were partly hidden by the building. They were leaning toward each other, his hand stroking her cheek. I looked away – it was a kiss about to happen and I just couldn't watch.  
  
Talk about mixed feelings. My heart is happy for her, but aches because I know she will never love me like that. But I don't resent it. I can't.  
  
It's like she was caught in the grip of some...creature trying to devour her. And now...  
**_  
I put the journal down and grab me sketchbook. An image has taken hold and I have to get it down on paper. Quickly flipping past the caricatures of my colleagues – some unkind, done in moments of great anger or frustration – I turn to a clean page and begin sketching. Lines and curves give form...the monster in the background jaws wide, trying to devour her is muted now, her light shines brightly and surrounds the man in her arms, creating an aura of joy. What should have been darkness is transformed.  
  
I look at the image when I'm done. Picking up my journal I finish my entry.  
  
**_...creature trying to devour her. And now... I look at the picture I've just drawn. I thought at first that the man was rescuing her, but I think she's rescuing Him. I never thought about it before, but maybe Grissom needs rescuing, too. Together they are stronger than whatever darkness tries to devour them. I'm happy they are together. I wish I was the one with her, but she is happy now and that's all that matters.  
_**  
I close the journal and put it away. Funny really. I wouldn't have come this far if Grissom hadn't suggested I talk to one of the department counselors. My last review had no comments about attitude problems. Maybe I'll be able to stick around awhile.  
  
I pick up the sketchbook and look at what I've just drawn. Before going to bed to possibly dream of her once more, I pick up the pencil and write a single sentence along the bottom.  
  
**_She's laughing in the jaws of life._**  
  
** -end-  
**  
**Additional A/N:** Yes, the mysterious observer is indeed Hodges.


End file.
